


sooner or later (you'll bury your teeth)

by stringstobepulled



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-09 11:10:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5537690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stringstobepulled/pseuds/stringstobepulled
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chara wants earrings. Asriel doesn't know what he wants.</p><p>It gets worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	sooner or later (you'll bury your teeth)

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by some gross shitpost in the Asriel tag, and the ensuing conversation with a friend who'd probably prefer not to be associated with this garbage in public.
> 
> Probably not bad enough for a violence tag, but kinda gory, and while I didn't intend for it to be sexual, it could easily come off that way if that's something you want to avoid. This is also not a good relationship, if _that's_ something you want to avoid.

The nice minotaur lady with the gold hoop dangling from the end of her snout rings up your popato chisps and sandwiches, and you do your very best not to think about the way Chara's staring at her like a locked-on target from a video game. No, like a sniper looking down a barrel, because everybody plays video games, and Chara's so much cooler than something everybody does.

“That'll be thirty gold, sweetie,” she mumbles, and you wonder if she's noticed – she isn't saying anything, but how could anybody _not_ notice? Maybe Chara's never seen a minotaur before. Maybe you should make your eyes all big and sad and say something apologetic to smooth it all over, like _sorry, my friend doesn't mean to stare, they've never seen a minotaur before and they're a really nice person, honest_ , even if they've seen a hundred minotaurs and they're just being rude because they can. Maybe you shouldn't say anything at all, because they shouldn't have to be polite if they don't want to, and you shouldn't have to be polite, either. Maybe you should stare at her, too.

Maybe they think she's cute, and that's why they're staring. Maybe you should get a nose ring.

She hands you your bag and tells you to have a nice day, and you toss a few extra gold in her tip jar, just so you can stop thinking about it.

 

 

You kind of expect Chara to stuff a few chocolate bars into their sweater on the way out. They're good enough at doing it that you never would've known if they hadn't let you see, if they hadn't squeezed in close when you were digging through the sugar snails on the shelf just above the chocolate and brushed their hand against yours and looked you straight in the eyes just to let you know they know you know. Sometimes if you're there or they can pull you over or just give you the look that means it's time, they'll huddle up behind you like they're hiding and slink a hand around your body until it's _your_ sweater stuffed with chocolate – and you're okay with this, you guess, because obviously nobody's going to check you. Even if somebody did, you could probably get away with it. At least Chara doesn't treat you like you're soft and harmless and _dumb._

You're definitely not okay with it for any other reason, like the way your fur stands on end when they touch you.

And yeah, you know it's sort of bad, _everyone_ knows it's sort of bad, but it's kinda cool when Chara steals stuff, especially when you can sit perched on the garden wall together after, unwrapping chocolate bars and giggling like co-conspirators. Sometimes Chara even messes with your ears, like co-conspirators, or lets you run your claws through their hair, like co-conspirators, or (best of all) rests their hand on top of yours, like co-conspirators. That's cool, too.

Chara doesn't steal today. They pass the candy rack like it isn't even there, hands hidden up their sleeves like always, and that's okay, isn't it? It's probably good they're not stealing today, after the way they stared at the clerk, even if you kinda wanted them to put their hands in your sweater again, maybe.

You don't even _like_ chocolate.

They're quiet all the way up the street, and you trail behind a few paces, wondering if they've ever stolen anything from you, apart from the obvious.

“Monsters can have piercings,” they finally say.

“Some of us do, I guess,” you reply. “Humans can have piercings too, right?” You think you've seen it in the magazines.

“ _Annoying_ ones,” Chara spits. “If they want people to think they're tough, or they're desperate for attention...”

Maybe you shouldn't get a nose ring after all?

“But if monsters do it too,” they mutter, “then I guess it's okay.”

“I've thought about getting earrings,” you pipe up, because it's true, and maybe it's a little less of an annoying human thing to do than piercing your nose. They'd be big, tough earrings, anyway. _Cool_ earrings. Bright orbs, or maybe dangling crystals... the kind of earrings you'd wear if you were the strongest fighter in the world, or the deadliest magician. You've thought a lot about the kind of earrings the God of Hyperdeath would wear, if his mom would let him get his ears pierced.

And Chara smirks, and just like that, they're close enough that you could reach out and touch their face if they let you – you mean, if you _wanted,_ which you _don't_ – and before you can move to defend yourself, they've got you by the ears.

“Where'd you even put them?” they giggle, with a sharp little tug.

“Cut it out!” you plead, but there's nothing like mercy in their eyes.

“Here?” They poke the floppy edge, and you die a thousand deaths, cringing as they prod.

“Maybe? Probably? I don't know!”

“Here?” They're touching the other side now, closer to the top. It's not a reasonable place to put an earring, and you _know_ they know it.

“ _Chara!_ ”

They circle underneath, running their fingernail over the soft, ticklish inside of the flap, over your bare, furless skin, and they're just messing with you now, aren't they? Who'd put an earring there? _How?_

“Couldn't put it here.” They're grinning, and you hate this, you hate earrings, you hate Chara–

“Stoooooooooop!” you cry, but they don't stop (do they ever?). Like you really expected them to stop, anyway – but you've done your best, so whatever happens now, well... there's a part of you that doesn't really mind the rough treatment, so it doesn't really matter, does it? They prod, you squeal, they prod even harder, and maybe they're laughing, but they're looking at you, they're _touching_ you...

You don't really hate Chara at all.

Sometimes you think you're not the greatest friend.

“ _I_ want earrings,” Chara declares, once it's over.

“Huh?”

“My ears are smaller. It'll work.”

It's not really fair that they can wear earrings and you can't, but still, it's true: Chara would probably look _really_ cool with earrings, and maybe Chara getting earrings isn't as cool as getting them yourself, but at least you'll get to look at them looking really cool, right?

“You're serious?”

They scoff.

“Obviously.”

“Then you should do it someday,” you say, balling up your hands into fists, trying not to think about words like _desperate_ or _obvious_ or _pathetic_. “I bet you'll look really–”

“Someday?” they repeat, like just saying it leaves a bad taste in their mouth. “I want to do it now.”

“But–”

“I'm _going_ to do it now.”

And yeah, they're very absolutely really set on doing it right now, and yeah, they'd look awesome with earrings right now, and yeah, it would be nice to get to look at them with earrings right now, but...

“But Mom says I can't do anything like that until I'm fifteen,” you murmur, eyes cast down. “And she probably won't let you do it until you're fifteen, either.”

They stare at you like they don't quite get what you're saying.

“And we're not fifteen,” you finish, trying not to look at anything in particular.

“Asriel,” they say, tugging at your ear again, forcing you to look them in the eye. “You're not going to let her tell us what to do, are you?”

She's your _mom_ , you think. It doesn't matter if you _let_ her tell you what to do any more than it matters if you _let_ yourself fall asleep when you're so tired you can barely keep your eyes open.

“Um,” you say, and they've gotten a whole lot closer in the time it took to think of a response.

“We can't let anyone tell us what to do,” they say, a little bit softer, their other hand finding your other ear, holding you so you couldn't look away if you wanted, and even though you'd look away if you could, probably, it's not like you really _want_ to.

You think about melting.

“We can do whatever we want, Asriel. She doesn't own us.”

And it's a beautiful dream, doing whatever you want. If no one could tell you what to do, then you could get earrings, yeah, and Chara could get earrings, and you could skip school together and go wherever the afternoon took you, winding through the streets, your hand clutched in Chara's as they led the way toward something new and shiny and _fun_. If there was something the two of you wanted, you'd take it, and then you'd sit on the garden wall and unwrap it together, laughing about how it's yours now, just because you could, just because Asriel and Chara could do anything when they did what they wanted.

If someone was in the way, you'd push them down, and you'd never have to be nice to anyone who looked at you like a dumb, soft baby, never ever again.

“Yeah!” you cry out, a little more enthusiastic than you wanted, maybe. “We can't let anybody tell us what to do!”

Chara nods, and frees your ears. You stumble behind, and scrabble forward another couple steps just to catch up.

“So, what are we going to do?” you ask. “Are we going to one of those tattoo places?”

Your breath hitches a little as you think about it, but you kind of maybe want to go to a tattoo place with Chara. You've never been anywhere like a tattoo place. There would probably be a big picture on the wall – something really cool and edgy, like the angel of death with a bunch of dusty swords, and you'd look up at it, feeling a little weird inside, knowing you were in a place people could go to do whatever they wanted. Maybe you could sit on the stool while Chara gets their ears done, kicking your legs and taking in the magical tattoo place sights around you. Right next to you, there might even be a big guy getting a huge flaming skull across his chest, or a lady with a mean look in her eye getting a whole bunch of metal installed in her face. Maybe that guy or that lady would even be the one doing Chara's–

“Won't work,” Chara says, cutting off your tattoo place dreams before they can even properly begin. “Everyone knows we're too young.”

“We could pretend to _not_ be too young,” you argue, because as long as you're doing whatever you want, then can't you do this, too?

“Everyone knows we're us, idiot.”

And you know they're right, but...

“We could pretend to not be us!”

“No,” they say, rolling their eyes. “That's stupid. We're going to have to do it ourselves.”

Well... you're big kids, right? There's no reason you can't. There's no reason it should feel so... however it feels, you guess. Weird, maybe, but not the same kind of weird as going to the tattoo place. At least, probably. You wouldn't know, would you?

It's not like you've ever really been.

“So, what, I'll just... poke a hole in your ear?” you ask them. “And you're sure that's okay?”

“I'm asking you to do it, aren't I?”

“You want me to poke a hole in your ear?” you ask again, just to be sure.

“Both ears. That's two holes.”

You don't want to think about the needles or the sewing scissors or anything else from the little box Chara keeps under your bed, but you do, and you don't want to think about the soft, pink flesh of Chara's ears, but you do that too, and you know you sound dumber than a box of bricks, asking _again_ , but you can't help blurting it out:

“You _really_ want me to stab you in the ear? Um... ears?”

And a look passes over their face that makes you shiver. You know this look. Their eyes are stretched wide, wide open. They're baring their teeth. It's the look of a wonderful, terrible idea.

“No,” they say, like it makes them a little nervous... and you feel yourself gulp, because if it makes _Chara_ a little nervous, then you're in for something bigger than you can even imagine. “You're going to have to...”

They look away, a little bit pinker, maybe. What's scary enough to take away the words from the coolest, toughest person you know? You're not sure you want to find out.

“I-I could,” you stutter, reaching out for their hand. “I could stab you. If you wanted.”

Chara wasn't afraid of stabbing. They weren't afraid, so you don't have to be afraid, either, as long as you're–

“You're going to have to bite me,” they choke out, voice cracking – but they're wide-eyed again, they're laughing again, all smiles and giggles and teeth. Maybe you imagined it. Maybe everything's okay, except...

“ _Bite_ you?”

You must have misheard. Absolutely. Positively. Definitely. Because if they're asking what you think they're asking...

“With your fangs,” they laugh, their smile nearly splitting their face in half, sort of like... sort of _desperately_ , you'd think, if it was anyone else. They grin harder, pointing at their stubby human almost-fangs, like you don't understand the idea – like it's weird because you don't get it, not because you do.

Your fangs are dull little stumps, and you know it.

“Don't you have anything that's better for that?”

“No.”

“Don't they use needles at the tattoo place?”

“No,” they say, louder and harder, scowling and pulling at the threads of their sweater like you're running out their patience. “That's not going to work. You have to bite me.”

“But _why?_ ” you whine.

“Because you _have to!_ ” they nearly shout.

They... really mean it, don't they? Oh, who are you kidding? Of course they do.

So here it is: Chara wants you to bite through their ear, and here you are, trying to wrap your head around the idea of biting through Chara's ear as a thing you can actually do, as a thing that's _expected_ for some reason or other. You've never really thought about biting, though you guess it's nice to think you could bite somebody if it ever came to that, just like it's nice to think you could maybe, probably hit somebody, or pump them full of magic bullets, or run them through with the God of Hyperdeath's swords – you know, if it ever came to that, if you ever _had_ to, if there was ever a really good reason besides it-would-be-pretty-cool-to-get-in-a-fight-for-real. And biting's not that different, is it? If you've pictured claws, if you've pictured magic, if you've pictured swords, then how are fangs any different?

Because you've never thought about hurting _Chara_ , probably.

What if you can't bring yourself to do it? What if you get their ear in... in your mouth, you guess, and maybe it would be warm on your tongue, and maybe this is something you probably shouldn't be thinking about, at least not with Chara right there, walking just ahead of you.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Try again. What if you get their ear in your mouth – nothing sick about it at all, just an ear in your mouth, just like co-conspirators _do_ – and your fangs aren't sharp enough to... do what they're asking you to do? With their ear. In your mouth. While you're not thinking anything terrible whatsoever.

What if your bite can't get through, and it's just too weird, and you're sitting there, gnawing at their ear without making any... _progress_ (you shudder) at all? You won't be happy. They won't be happy. Eventually they'll have had enough and they'll shove you off and say, _That's it, Asriel, you're not my best friend anymore_ , and it'll be all because you're a weak little baby with stupid nubby teeth.

“I... don't think this is going to work,” you whimper.

“It's going to work,” they snap. “It has to work. Don't you trust me?”

“Of course I trust you! I just...”

“Don't want to do this for me,” they say, low and empty, and you _do_ , of course, it's just... you just...

You don't trust your teeth. You don't trust your heart.

You don't want to hurt them, even if they want you to.

You go back and forth and back and forth all down the street, all up the walkway home, all through the garden path, and when Dad's there at the door to greet you with a hug and a bunch of questions about your day, it feels like you're home free instead of like the end of an adventure. It feels like you're safe, at least for now. Beautiful dream of doing what you want or no beautiful dream of doing what you want, there's no way talking about biting holes in ears around Dad can end well, and you know they know it.

They glare at you across your father's furry shoulders, and you do your very best to make a scary face right back at them, but just like always, you blink before they do.

 

 

You stick to your dad like glue all the way through lunch and into dinner, and maybe Chara's not exactly happy with this, but for now, there's nothing they can do about it.

“...and the new rose I'll be trying in the garden, of course!” Dad beams. You can't remember what came before. Something about king stuff, maybe. Something that has nothing to do with what Chara wants, or why they want it from _you_ , or why they even want it at all, or...

You nibble your casserole, trying not to think about anything. It's slug and tomato, and yeah, slug and tomato is pretty much always the best, but it's hard to really enjoy it when you can't stop thinking about what your fangs are doing when you chew. It's hard not to think about anything when Chara won't stop kicking you under the table.

“Another tea rose?” Mom asks.

Chara's sneaker thuds against your shin, again and again and again. It's not hard enough to _really_ hurt, but it's enough to let you know it isn't over, because of course it isn't.

You try not to think about the red around their eyes.

“A hybrid,” Dad says, and how could anyone stand to talk about flowers when the world is ending all around you?

He drones on. You slurp a slug into your mouth, worm it into place between your fangs, and – _don't think about it, don't think about it, it's just to see if you can_ – clamp down as hard as you can around its soft, fat middle. You spear it easily. Your fangs clatter together so hard it hurts and it squirts apart in your mouth and your stomach churns, but you did it, didn't you? It wasn't even hard.

It might have been funny, how you totally wrecked that slug. Any other day, maybe. Any day you weren't busy thinking about whether an ear's a little bit tougher, maybe, and whether you could do it again if you pretended the slug was...

“Do you think it will go well with the scones?” Mom asks.

This one, then. This next slug is Chara, and if you can do it...

“I think that anything would go well with your scones, my dear,” Dad coos, and you try to block it out and focus on the slug...

You can't even get it all the way into your mouth.

You're dumb, and flowers are dumb, and your parents are dumb, and biting is dumb, and Chara is dumb, and _kicking_ is really, really, _really_ dumb–

“Stop it,” you murmur. Again. They don't. You curl your leg underneath your body and let them have a go at the other one.

“But I am getting ahead of myself, aren't I? First, the roses must be...”

Thud.

Thud again.

It's almost enough that you could properly bite them, maybe – except it's not about whether they're _annoying_ you, it's just... knowing it'll hurt them. Knowing you can't do it if you know it'll hurt them.

You take an angry rip out of your casserole, and Chara's eyes light up.

“You could do it,” they whisper. “I know you could.”

They squeeze your fingers underneath the table, and that's all it takes for you to wonder: what if they were right?

What if you didn't have to worry? What if you wouldn't mess it up?

You'd find the perfect corner in the garden, where no one could see you, and you'd huddle in close with your knees touching together, maybe. If Chara didn't mind. They'd tell you it was time and you'd lean over and... and they'd grin and bear it through the pain, laughing it off like always – except, maybe they'd want to hold your hand, like, for real? Maybe they'd finally trust you enough. Maybe they'd wrap their fingers in yours, their soft skin smooshed against your paw pad as you... as you did it, and maybe they'd even squeeze down, just for a second. It wouldn't take any longer than that, because you'd be brave and cool too, wouldn't you? You'd know what you were doing. You'd make it quick, and...

(And why are you so _warm_ all of a sudden?)

–And maybe it would be a little nice to be that close. Maybe when you think of it that way, it's not so bad. Your hand in Chara's hand, your arms clamped around their body to keep them steady, your teeth... is there even a word for so close you're inside?

You're definitely not supposed to be thinking about that.

But you've never been so close to anybody, _Chara's_ never been so close to anybody, and yeah, you don't know that for _sure_ , but there's no way. This isn't something everybody does – it isn't something anybody does – and maybe that's just the way Chara is, but when they look at you like that, you think maybe that's the way you could be, too.

And even though it doesn't really _matter_ or anything, it might... almost be like kissing, in a weird kind of way. Your mouth, their skin, clinging onto each other, making each other cooler, _better_... and yeah, okay, it's not a big deal, but maybe you wouldn't really mind it if they ever wanted to kiss you. Just, y'know, if they ever wanted to. Just to try it.

Couldn't this sort of be like that, at least if you pretend?

They lean in again while Mom and Dad aren't looking, and lift up your ear just a little, almost gently...

“Wouldn't trust anyone else with this, Asriel,” they whisper, and you know it's the truth, and something wonderful and horrible crawls its way up your spine.

What would it be like to do something for them that nobody else could do?

But it would hurt them, wouldn't it? It would hurt them, and that would be awful, and you could never, you could _never_ – but they _want_ you to hurt them, don't they? So maybe it's okay? Maybe?

You think maybe you want to hurt them, if they want you to.

There's that feeling again – that terrible shudder, that _kind of a freak_ , that _what if they hated me_ , that _what if they let me_ – let you what? Let you bite them? Let you kiss them? When did it become something they'd let you do instead of something they told you to do? When did your face start _burning?_

You feel yourself squirm. You can't help it.

“My child,” Mom starts, that protective glare boring directly into the part of your soul where only horrible, horrible things live, “are you feeling quite alright?”

You open your mouth.

You stare.

There has to be something you can tell her, but the only thing that comes to mind is _I think I'm maybe probably not quite right inside_ , and you can't, you _can't_ , you–

“Kicked him,” Chara cuts in, saving your life forever.

“And what have we told you about kicking?”

“Was an accident,” Chara mumbles, and Mom starts asking them what you say when you accidentally kick someone in that voice she uses when it's not really a question, but they're already smiling at you and your mind's too much of a whirling, slurring blur of _weird_ and _freak_ and _not quite right_ for you to really pay attention anymore.

All through homework and chores and everything else, you think about whether you can really say yes, whether you can really say no. You think about doing what you want. You think about how Asriel and Chara can do anything, when they do what they want. Why shouldn't you do this, if you want to? If they want you to? If you can tell yourself later that it wasn't really your idea in the first place, wasn't really your fault?

Your hands tremble, so you shove them into your pockets and think about how cool Chara's going to look with earrings.

 

 

The door clicks open. Wherever Chara went, they're back now. You'll have to explain why you've changed your mind, but that's okay, isn't it? You'll find the words. It'll be perfect, and it'll make all the sense in the world, and it definitely, definitely won't be even a little bit weird-freak-creepy-wrong-terrible-friend-sicko at all.

“I,” you start, and that's as far as you get.

Something plunks against the nightstand, and Chara raises the hand they've cupped over it just enough to show you something shining underneath. You lean in.

They've brought earrings – three little sets of earrings, still in the packaging, studs and hoops and spikes.

“Took them from the store,” they say, and even after everything, you let out an appreciative little murmur. “You can pick when you do it.”

Well, if Chara's just going with it like you never said no in the first place, that's great – no, it's better than great, it's the best of all possible worlds. If they're not asking, then you don't have to tell.

“It was just...” you mumble anyway. “It wasn't because I didn't want to help you, it was just, I was just _scared_...”

“Oh,” says Chara, and in an instant, they've got their hands on your shoulders and they're pushing forward and up, and whatever happens next is very much like their mouth smashing against your cheek – except it's obviously nothing like that at all, because maybe you wouldn't really mind it if they wanted to kiss you, and maybe you even think about it sort of a lot, but there's no way, no way in a million years that they'd ever want to almost maybe kind of...

“I... forgive you,” they choke out, and you can feel your heart race.

You don't know what to make of this. _Chara_ doesn't even seem to know what to make of this, and they're the one who did it – they won't look at you and they're twitching and messing with the threadbare patches on their sweater and they told you once that humans turn red when they're feeling extra dangerous, but you wonder if maybe instead they're just feeling kind of awkward and warm, same as you.

For your part, you stand very still, picking at your claws, trying not to make it a _thing_ because maybe if it's a _thing_ , they're never going to want to do it again.

“...Earrings,” they finally say.

“H-huh?”

“Earrings,” they say again, and that's that.

“How are we doing this?” you breathe.

They give you a look like you still don't get it.

“You're going to bite me, and then you'll shove the earring in the hole.”

Your chest wobbles. You hadn't thought about _shoving._

“W...what if it hurts?” you ask, and they shrug.

“Then it hurts. I can deal with it.”

“But–”

“ _Don't_ ,” they say, grabbing at your sleeve. “You're not backing out on me now, Asriel.”

You gulp, and then you nod.

“So should I just... go for it? Right now? Do you want to lay down? Should I put down a towel?”

“Why do we need a towel?”

“I don't know,” you mutter, and you don't, really, it just... makes it seem more sanitary, somehow. They'd probably put down a towel at the tattoo place.

Chara's quiet for a moment, like they're thinking.

“My bed,” they eventually decide. “I'll sit on you and then you'll bite me.”

And you're absolutely sure you're blushing like crazy underneath your fur, but what, are you really going to draw the line at sitting? It's not even like you don't want them to sit on you – in fact, it would be kind of nice, maybe, but...

“Don't you trust me?” they ask, and maybe it's the light, or maybe it's just your reflection, but maybe there's something a little less than cool in their eyes. Something that wants. Something that can hurt, but something that can _hurt_ , too. They're as red as they ever were and red means dangerous if you take their word for it, but you're not sure you do. Maybe... they can't feel the same way you do, never in a million years, but maybe you want to believe they're a little more like you than you thought.

It doesn't even matter, because either way... yeah, you trust them. You'd pretty much follow them to Hell, if they'd have you.

“O-okay,” you stammer. “You can sit on me, and... I can bite you.”

Deep, steady breaths. You plop yourself down onto Chara's bed, trying your best to look like you're not exploding inside, because this isn't anything special, is it? They crawl in with you once in a while when it gets cold, and even though you've maybe been allowed in the place Chara sleeps two or three times at the most, who's keeping count of it? Definitely not you.

Their hands are on your shoulders again, this time pressing down to steady their weight. They're swinging their leg over and pulling in close, and this was a terrifying, unknowable blank in your mind as soon as they suggested it, but... but _oh_ , that's what this is like. They're lighter than you would've thought, and they're almost so warm it's uncomfortable, and it's not like you haven't hugged them every time they've let you, so why does it feel so important that they're wrapped around you, pressed against you – that underneath the sweaters, their heart's probably beating against yours?

Your claws dig up handfuls of blanket before you've entirely given them permission. You're going to die. You are actually going to die.

Chara squirms like they're trying to get their balance, looking everywhere but at you. It's a little easier to think once they've pulled away, half-leaning against you sideways instead of pressing their whole chest into yours. Their head's a soft weight on your shoulder. Their hair tickles your neck. Their breath's hot.

You fish around for the pen and slowly, carefully draw the dots on their ears where the holes should go, and it's not like you're _stalling_ , really, it's just...

“Get on with it,” Chara murmurs.

“I can feel you breathing,” you blurt out, and you cringe into Chara's hair while you wait for them to make fun of you.

Instead, something reaches around your back, _clutches_ –

“I can feel you too,” they whisper, and okay. _Okay_.

Okay.

You're shaking. They're red. It's the most impossible thing in the world to take their warm, soft ear into your mouth, but you close your eyes and concentrate on their breathing and before you know it, you're trying to line up the tips of your fangs with the dot. If you think about it too hard, if you listen to the tangle in your chest instead of pushing it away... _This isn't going to work it's a terrible idea they'll hate you they'll hate you they'll_ – but no, Chara _said_ , and you trust them, and you...

...and you want to. It makes you sick to your stomach, but you want to. You've never been so close to them, and you want to get closer, past the skin, and you don't want to stop until they tell you they've had enough, or you've gotten closer than anyone's ever been. You've got one hand around their shoulder, the other on the back of their head to hold them steady, and you think about cradling them, of all things. You wonder if you're being gentle. You wonder if it matters. You hope you're doing it right, even though you know you can't exactly get it wrong when it's something the two of you invented for yourselves, Chara and Asriel against the world.

“I'm waiting,” they say, and part of you hesitates – would it really be so bad to just stay like this another second, their earlobe held between your teeth? But no, that's _weird_ , you're _weird_ , and okay. Okay. It's time. They're waiting, they _said_ , and you're doing this you need to you want to you _have_ to...

You close your eyes and bite down.

It's soft until you meet resistance, until Chara makes a small strangled sound and springs shut around you like a steel trap, spikes clamped down, digging in against your whole body – their knees slamming together against your ribs, their fingernails scrambling for a grip in your fur...

“Keep going,” they hiss, and you try to nod like always, but the rip stretches against your teeth and they're making that noise again and you kind of want to keep hearing it except you don't _really_ , you can't _really_ , it's not like you _really_ want to hurt Chara, do you? Instead, you keep your head as still as you possibly can, and you stroke Chara's hair as gently as you can manage, and you hope they understand.

They tighten their grip on your fur, so maybe they do.

It's tougher to bite through than you would've expected. You clench your jaw harder and harder, a little more pressure each time they pull on you or dig their nails into your back, matching them, sort of, pushing them under your skin just like you're under theirs. You're making your way through, maybe, even if you have to wiggle your teeth like you're grinding them together to really burrow any deeper at this point, and as weird as it is, as _wrong_ as it is, you've never felt anything more.

Something bursts in your mouth and you think about the slug and cringe hard enough that Chara nearly cries out for real this time. You stroke their back, soft and fumbling, and press your teeth down harder. Your eyes feel hot, blurry. It takes you a moment to notice the sick, metallic taste in your mouth – _Chara's dust_ , you think, and you feel your eyes stretch wide. No, humans don't have dust, do they? What was the word? You think about the word for human dust instead of the sawing motions, instead of the soft, determined hisses they make every time you shift your teeth, instead of the way they've worked their fingernails so deep into your fur that they're properly boring into your skin now, almost like real claws.

Even after this, there's another ear to go. You can't tell if that makes you giddy or nauseous.

“Hurry it up, Asriel,” they gasp between breaths, and you can't say you're sorry so you clench your jaw and burrow your teeth harder and – and that's it, that's it, only a little longer, only...

Your fangs come together with a soft, wet click.

Chara must have heard it too, because all of a sudden, they're giggling. No, they're laughing like mad, grinning or cringing or maybe both, and you pull their head back and flounder around for the earring and line it up with the hole and shove it through, trying not to flinch when you have to force it, and did you really think this would be the worst of it, way back when? It almost makes you feel like laughing, too.

“You're doing really well,” you murmur, stroking their hair again.

“I'm not a _baby_ ,” they say, and cackle even harder.

You dab at their neck with the pillowcase, even though it's probably useless. There's an awful lot of human dust everywhere, and yeah, Chara seems alright enough, but it still feels... you don't even know. It's on your face, in your mouth, and how are you supposed to forget what it tastes like when it's still right there?

“You'd seriously do anything for me,” they say, like it's _funny_... but maybe they also look a little bit relieved. That you'd do it? That you didn't let them down? That you're...

“Yeah,” you say, and it feels good, doesn't it? Knowing you can say it and mean it. Knowing you've got the right.

They're bouncing on your lap, fidgeting up and down and up and down like they do when they've just won a fight. They're grinning, they're giggling, they're making that face they make when it's only them and you. Chara seems more than alright enough – you don't think you've ever seen them look happier.

You realize you're smiling, too.

“Look at you,” Chara says, leaning in. “All that stupid blood on your face.”

They laugh.

Then, they kiss you.

It's just like that, in the blink of an eye. Chara isn't kissing you – the world's still barely the way you knew it this morning – and then, less than a second later, they're tugging your ears, pulling your mouth up to theirs, crushing their lips against the stupid blood. You yelp into their mouth, and they giggle into yours, and something shorts in your brain because they're kissing you, _they're kissing you_ , so what else can you do but go weak in their grip and let them do it?

“You taste like hell,” they snicker, and if you're brave enough to gnaw through their ear, you're brave enough to be the one to close the distance this time, to close your eyes and pretend to be bigger and stronger and cooler and touch your lips to theirs, almost softly this time before they come crashing back down.

You kiss them and let them kiss you and kiss them again until it's a flurry of kisses, until it's impossible to tell who's the one who started it and who's the one who can't be blamed. Chara says something that sounds like _finally_ , and you let them push you down when they say it again, and they're kissing you, and whatever stupid thing is in your heart has to be in theirs, too, because that's how it works, because you're theirs and they're yours and you trust them and they trust you and if this is how they kiss, teeth and all, then this is how you want to be kissed forever and always.

After, they pull you back up and wiggle back into your lap.

“Do the other one.”

“Okay, Chara,” you squeak.

“And I'll do yours with my knife. We'll match.”

“Okay, Chara,” you squeak again.

You're the only one who can hurt them, and they're the only one who can hurt you, and it's the most wonderful thing in the world.

You take the other ear in your mouth. They lace their fingers with yours and squeeze down tight like they can tell you what they want without saying anything at all, and you can understand them without even hearing it, and you didn't even know there could be anything closer than under the skin, but maybe you've found it, and it's easier to believe when you're covered in their kisses.

It's easier, this time, to sink your teeth in.


End file.
